The Story So Far
by been-there-pun-that
Summary: A young Hershel Layton starts writing about his thoughts after the death of his best friend. It's certainly not a daily diary, but he does record the major (and some of the minor) events of his life. Updates every Wednesday and Saturday. Also on AO3. Contains minor and major spoilers for most of the series.
1. 2nd June, 1947

I can't sleep. The nightmares. All I can see is my sweaty, grimy hand held out in front of me, gripping Randall's, and the darkness below him… he tries to pass the mask up to me… his hand slips through mine… he falls into the pit… he doesn't scream, but I do… Two hours should be enough to live on.

My acceptance letter from Gressenheller came this morning. I had been fearing I was too late in the game to even be considered for this school year as I had not been planning to even leave Stansbury any time soon until just this last week. The letter did mention my tardiness, but they are willing to make an exception because of my grades and recommendations from Kingsbrook. Ma is making my favourite supper for tonight and Pa presented me with this new Sheaffer pen he had bought on his last trip to London for me, but I am just not in the mood to celebrate, even if it is my future we're celebrating. I feel horrible for bringing this black cloud over the house. They're being kind about it, though; I am not even receiving a formal punishment, as we can all agree that the walk home was hard enough for me, physically and emotionally. The grief and guilt went without saying.

I haven't seen Angela since coming home from the Akbadain ruins. I want to say I am not responsible for the death of her boyfriend, but I am. I could have stopped Randall from going on that reckless adventure to discover "the secrets of the Azran civilisation" and I didn't… Henry is as quiet as ever. I visited the Ascots this afternoon, but I couldn't stay long... literally: the longer I stayed, the worse I felt. Everywhere I looked I saw Randall; Mr. Ascot's red hair and Mrs. Ascot's wire-rimmed glasses didn't help. I've been in bed ever since.

"Discover the truth in seeking the ancient" is Gressenheller's motto; maybe that could actually happen for me, in discovering myself, or something. Mr. Collins went to Gressenheller and he said the motto almost every day of Basics of Archaeology, but I never really understood it until now. Stansbury doesn't feel like home any more, even less so than when we first moved here three years ago. As much as I love my little town, I can't wait for London.

A/N:

Based off of a tweet #10295853520 from HershelLayton on Twitter, I am setting this fic in the 1940-60s. The Laytonverse is most likely an alternate universe, but I'd like this to be as realistic as possible!


	2. 27th September, 1947

Living away from home really isn't as bad as I thought it would be. I mean, of course I miss my parents and everyone in town, but Gressenheller is about as small as Stansbury itself, so it's less overwhelming than the phrase 'university in London' would imply. London is certainly as big as I had always imagined it, but since I've not left campus during my first week here, I don't think I'll have to face it much during my time at school. And since Gressenheller so small, you don't have to pay extra for having a dorm to yourself! I wouldn't have minded a roommate, but I study better in silence. I do have three suitemates, though: Jonathan, Murphy, and Arthur. I haven't gotten to know any of them yet, but at least they don't seem too rowdy.

As for my classes, I have English, College Algebra, Physics, and Archaeology 112. I took Mr. Collins' advice and signed up for one of Dr. Schrader's classes (Archeology), and I really like it so far. I now see why Randall was so enthralled with archaeology: it's not just the study of fossils and rocks, but the study of Earth from a cultural view. I'm finally getting used to the haircut Ma had me get; it does have a more scholarly feel than the cumulonimbus style I had been going for did. Also in my quest for scholarship, it's my goal to stay more organised… so there's that.

I have yet to hear of or meet anyone here by the name of Randall; there are not even many redheaded students, for that matter, or at least none as red as he was. After all that's happened, I count these facts as blessings. I try not to think of him, or things that relate to him. This is difficult, seeing as how I am at the archaeology school he had always dreamt of going to, but, as I wrote as part of my admissions exam, "I want to attend Gressenheller University not only because of my budding interest in archaeology, but also in honour of my best friend."


	3. 8th February, 1948

Dear diary,

After the wedding rehearsal last night, Clark and Brenda gave me this journal as, to quote Clark as he handed it to me, "a sort of thank-you-for-putting-up-with-this-madness present." It's a fine book, bound in a high-quality leatherette with handmade paper; it's so naturally made that it took ten minutes of Clark's and my nerdy analysis to discover this fact since there was no label with such information.

I'm sure I'll put it to good use. Keeping a diary (which, for some reason, just sounds more personal than "journaling") can't be as bad as I thought it was when I was younger; in fact, it seems to be rather fun now that I've started up again. Talking of which, I'll store that piece of notebook paper I wrote my thoughts on back in '47 in the cover of my new diary; those thoughts were disorganised and, as a rule, haphazardly written, but they are well worth keeping. Besides that, after a year at uni, my handwriting has certainly changed and will probably continue doing so. I think it will be interesting to compare throughout the entries, especially with my secondary school journal on hand, as well. Studying how I've changed as a person by looking at my old handwriting: I'm really sounding like an archaeologist, aren't I? All that hard work is paying off.

So, by way of introduction, I suppose I should mention that Clark and Brenda Triton were, until recently, Clark Triton and Brenda Sutherland and are good friends of mine. Clark and I met in Dr. Schrader's 112 class, and have had multiple classes together ever since; he is a sophomore, as well. We met Brenda as a freshman a few weeks later, when Clark helped her back up when she had tripped on a step coming on to the tram; they started dating soon after. Very romantic indeed. They're both history majors with geology emphases and are huge nerds; their parents were worried they rushed into marriage, but I think they're perfect for each other.

Also by way of introduction, I suppose I should mention that my name is Hershel Layton, if that knowledge is of any importance to you; I suppose I am referring to 'Diary' when I address my audience. And before you ask, no, I was not named after Milton S. Hershey nor his chocolate company, but after John Herschel, an eighteenth century scientist who co-invented photography, thank you very much. When I was adopted, my parents dropped the C in the spelling, for whatever reason; at least it's one less letter for me to say when spelling my unusual name for people.

Since I last wrote at the beginning of my freshman year, I have chosen my major: archaeology. It's what I had in mind from the beginning, though I was open-minded as long as I would still be in the archaeological area. There isn't much to choose from here, anyway: archaeology, like me, historical geology, like Clark, paleontology, anthropology, and various specializations in different parts of history. And of course there is the grad school – many undergrads I know on going there next and of those graduates most are planning on teaching – but I think I'll steer clear of that. I'm spending enough money already!

Now then, back to business. I must admit that I felt rather gaudy today: standing at the front of the church to Clark's left like a tuxedoed shadow. It was no doubt an honour for him to choose me as his best man and only groomsman, as it was a rather small wedding: Brenda only had her maid of honour, Marylyn, there next to her. But, to my knowledge, I was the only one in the whole building wearing a cravat – my own, which Clark insisted I wear since he thinks it suits me. I wanted to argue that its deep red would look ridiculous next to his modern white necktie, but I told wanted to argue that its deep red would look ridiculous next to his modern white necktie, but I told myself that this was his wedding and that he was letting me be a part in it, so I wore my cravat, held my tongue, and best manned, or whatever it's called that I was doing. Thankfully, though, all eyes were primarily on the happy couple throughout the ceremony, so I don't think anyone noticed my cravat much. And no, I am not as vain as I sound; I just did not want to stick out like a sore thumb.

I'm pretty tired from this long day of mine, so thus ends my first, official entry in this new diary. Until we meet again.


	4. 15th August, 1948

Dear diary,

Today, I am now twenty years of age. Am I old now? Clark, some of other friends, and I went out last night. I bought a new cap for myself; it's a dark red, so it should match a lot of what I wear. The lads didn't make me do anything stupid while we were out last night… at least, not that I remember. I do enjoy writing in this diary, it makes me feel very scholarly… though that might not be too apparent, giving I've only written one entry in the last year. I'll try to be more constant in the future.


	5. 11th April, 1950

Dear diary,

Who knew being a junior took so much out of oneself? I knew vaguely how much work it would be, but for some reason I thought I would waltz right through this year, senior year, and across the stage. No such thing. I've barely had time sleep, much less write anything down that wasn't copious notes in class, a note-to-self, or a research paper and I imagine it'll be just the same next year. In fact, Clark and I have fallen asleep studying more than a few occasions with open textbooks and notebooks for pillows. Good times. That hasn't happened recently, though; I do hope he's stopped snoring since he's gotten married.

But I've managed to make all A's this semester, so that's something; my notes and experiences from Introduction to Archaeology back at Kingsbrook have helped me in more ways than I can count in multiple classes. When Dr. Schrader first started talking about Donald Rutledge's _Ancient Histories_ , I, for once, actually feel ahead of the game.


	6. 13th May, 1950

Dear diary,

I'm officially a senior now. I haven't started classes or anything since it's just now the beginning of summer, but I'm a senior, all the same. I think that sounds pretty impressive. Since he has the top GPA of all the history majors, Clark has been invited to accompany Dr. Schrader on this summer's exhibition as his assistant! They're going to the Gorges Du Verdon in France. Dr. Schrader said he would have invited me, too, but geology really isn't my strong suit.


	7. 14th May, 1950

Dear diary,

I happened to stop by the mailroom today, just to clean out my box before leaving for the summer, and there I found a wedding invitation. Henry and Angela are engaged and are going to be married next month. This came as a bit of a shock to me. For some reason, I had assumed Angela wouldn't marry anyone after Randall's death. But her parents were always so demanding of her, so I guess it was inevitable. I certainly hope they're marrying for love and not just because her parents forced her to find a husband. It was very kind of the soon-to-be LeDores to invite me, as we did not exactly part ways on good terms. Unfortunately, I'll have to write back saying I will not be able to attend the wedding due to my classes. My social life is once again foiled by my doctorate.

Henry mentioned in a separate letter that they will moving into a small home they built near an oasis in the desert. This oasis is the base of operations for the continued search for Randall in the ruins. I assume this means the search for his glasses or a shoe or the body itself at the bottom of the ravine; they can't actually think they're going to find him alive somewhere, not after all this time… Regardless, I wish I could be there at their sides: not only with my new knowledge of caverns such as Akbadain but with my support, as well.


	8. 9th August, 1950

Dear diary,

Clark and Brenda are doing well; they just celebrated their half-anniversary this week. It does my heart good to see my friend so happy with his other half. They were fully aware that getting married while still at university would be difficult, but they still chose to go ahead anyway. Fortunately, Clark's almost done with his geology degree, but there's still senior year to get through and Brenda is still knee deep in her junior year. I hope they don't become overwhelmed with all that's going on; they've told me their hopes of having a family, but they said they are going to wait to start trying for a baby until they are more stable – financially and with each other in this new chapter of life.

The other day I heard about a nearby gymnasium that offers fencing; it would be wonderful to get back into it and I could definitely use the exercise. That is, once I have some free time. …That is, if I ever have free time again, which at this point in my life I am seriously doubting once uni starts back up. Clark and I are going out for drinks for my birthday this weekend, though, so that should be fun.


	9. 28th September, 1950

Dear diary,

Not much of anything out of the ordinary happened over the summer. Once uni went down, I went home and worked at the front desk of the natural history museum and slept as much as I could. It was nice to be home for the full summer for once. My parents were as thrilled as ever to have me back under their roof and we spent a lot of time catching up. While being back in Stansbury, surrounded by the past, certainly wasn't easy, it wasn't as bad as what I had been dreading, as in I wasn't run out of town by an angry mob wielding torches and pitchforks. No, I wasn't dreading that; it's just that my relationship with my hometown has changed in so many ways and I'm still getting used to it. Thankfully, everyone had the decency to not mention Randall.

I've been back at the brain factory, as Uncle Doug calls it, for two months now… no, this isn't getting monotonous at all…


	10. 4th December, 1950

Dear diary,

The Christmas holiday starts soon, but up until then, I'll definitely have my hands full with classes. Alright, now that I've written this very descriptive, well thought out, and in depth entry, I have no more time for such leisurely writing… back to research for me. I'm off to the library. If I don't make it out, tell my mother I love her.


	11. 2nd January, 1950

Dear diary,

Got back from Stansbury last night. It's been raining like mad recently. I wonder why. Oh wait… this is London. Never mind.

Not much is going on. Dr. Schrader assigned us new research partners in Classical Texts in Translation last week. Clark now has a… rather eccentric post-graduate as a partner; haven't caught his name yet. I can't say I envy him in this (whatsoever… at all…), but Clark will manage, I'm sure. He always did have that ability to understand animals of all sorts, so maybe that could come in useful somehow. The man does seem to be pretty smart, though, so hopefully he can be some sort of asset despite his, er, unique personality.

Replacing Clark as my partner, Dr. Schrader paired me with a freshman named Claire. We've worked well together so far; she's diligent in her studies (which explains how she is taking an upperclassman course already and is the only reason why Dr. Schrader would pair me with a freshman). She seems nice enough and is really cooperative. That's always a preferred combination for a lab partner.


	12. 23rd January, 1951

Dear diary,

I went to the library to today to find resources for Classical Texts in Translation (that class's name is never any easier to write no matter how many times one does) today. There, I met up with Claire and we got right to work.

She is a great partner and I discovered early on that she's a whiz researcher, but I don't know what she's doing at an Archaeology university. She's smart and capable, no doubt, but she seems much more geared toward the mathematical part of Archaeology than the historical part. I haven't asked about her major, but my guess is that it's something more to do with the left side of the brain. We've talked quite a lot throughout the week, both during breaks from research and before and after lectures. I am beginning to quite enjoy these conversations.


	13. 3rd February, 1951

Dear diary,

Classical Texts in Translation (yep, still a tedious name to write; I should abbreviate it next time, eh?) is now quite boring all of a sudden. I don't know how I could say that, as Dr. Schrader is the best; in fact, we're becoming good friends. It's always been one of my favourite classes.

Yet it is now quite boring.

Coming back from a long weekend today, I discovered from a rather distraught fellow named Paul that Claire is no longer attending here. He looked ready to throw a tantrum. Now that I think about it, he's Clark's new research partner. Go figure.

Now that there's an odd number in the class, Dr. Schrader is letting me work on my own. Since he believes in one-on-one productivity, if there is an odd number, he'd much rather have someone by themselves, asking him any questions they might have, then there being three to a group. And anyway, Claire and I had already done the biggest chunk of the research, so it's not that much extra work. Since I'm an introvert, I always have worked better on my own… though I can definitely see the benefits of having two minds collaborating to figure something out, furthering each others' knowledge on a topic.

And Claire's mind is certainly one worth reckoning with. It – and her, of course – shall be missed at Gressenheller University.

Luckily, we had swapped phone numbers before break last month, so I was able to call her after class and ask why she had made the decision. She explained she simply felt that, as much as she likes Gressenheller itself, history is not for her; science has always been her passion and she's going to follow it. Just as I thought. Even so, it's a pretty big leap to do this so close to the end of the year; I hope she knows where she's going with this.


	14. 9th February, 1951

Dear diary,

Yesterday Claire told me that she is looking into the Institute of Polydimensional Physics to continue her education. Which is fine and all… except that, in thick (read: normal) traffic, the Institute is about a half-hour drive from Gressenheller, at the very least, and she's moving to a flat close by to it.

At the end of the call over which she informed me of this, I fumblingly said that I would miss seeing her every day – I left out that fact that I had already been missing her ever since 30st January, her last day at Gressenheller before we got out for that long weekend. Apparently not noticing my awkwardness in saying so, she suggested that we meet up when we both have days free. I don't think I've ever agreed with anyone so much in my life.

Oh, and I've been twenty-one now for some time; I suppose that's sounds exciting, but really, it's just another year.


	15. 7th April, 1951

Dear diary,

Claire has transferred and is now enrolled at the Institute. She's finishing out her freshmen year there and then will go back for her sophomore year after the summer holiday. We had plans to meet half way for coffee one day, but I ended up not being able to get a ride, no matter who I asked, so I asked her for a rain check. She said that was fine, but I don't know when we'll both ever have free time on the same day again.

All I can do now with this entry is write one word: s _igh_. When I complained to Clark about missing her, all he did was waggle his eyebrows at me accompanied by a goofy grin. Real mature, married man.

I wouldn't _mind_ dating Claire, she is single, after all… it's just it hasn't come up in conversation yet. If she's content to just be friends, I'm happy with that – especially now that we're kind of long distance, she being half an hour away, and all. Still…


	16. 26th June , 1951

Dear diary,

Graduation absolutely sailed by. Life has been so busy since finishing my undergrad that I've barely had time to write anything. You would think it would be the opposite, since, at least for right now, I'm not in class or studying or writing papers for the first time in forever. And that's how it is for most of my classmates: moving on with their lives beyond classroom walls. Clark, in fact, is going in for an interview at Finchley Garden Centre today; he is applying to be their environmental consultant.

But… there's been something I've neglected to mention. It looks like I'm staying here at Gressenheller... to get my master's. Dean Delmona has a mind to make me a professor at Gressenheller! This is entirely thanks to Dr. Schrader, as he has always spoken well of me ever since I arrived here. Until he mentioned the dean's thoughts to me the day before graduation, I thought the most Dean Delmona knew of me was that I received an upper second-class honour and that I was a popular tutor. But to think I'm actually being considered for professorship! In Archaeology! I knew I was going to do something in the archaeological field – I hadn't decided quite what yet – but to help others on their way to their own dreams…

I think… I hope… that Randall would be proud.

I really should call my parents now; I was putting it off until I had a good half hour free. Here I go…

As I predicted, they are ecstatic for me and their rejoicings took the better part of the prearranged half hour. I asked them if they could keep quiet about it until the final decision is made; they said they will restrain themselves as best they can. We have much too much family and too many neighbors that I know they would tell all about it in a heartbeat, and I don't want to go raising any hopes just to say later, "Sorry, I didn't make the cut after all." You know, because nothing is certain yet. I'm just trying to be realistic, alright?

My graduate classes start straight away; my second graduation is should be in '53. Gressenheller is helping pay for my classes and textbooks, due to the fact that, if everything goes well, they'll be hiring me once I complete my master's degree. I would never consider looking elsewhere to lecture if Gressenheller was still an option. So that's nice. And completely necessary for this poor university student. And so the journey begins again…


	17. 2nd July, 1951

Dear diary,

Over the last few months, I've discovered that Claire and I share a love for puzzles. We go out with Clark and Brenda occasionally ( _not_ as a double date, as I must remind Clark). Additionally, we are also both interested in time – my interests are in the past, such as with archaeology; hers are in the future, what with her developing new technologies at the Institute of Polydimensional Physics. She doesn't really talk about "time travel," in so many words, but the word "polydimensional" has something to do with, well, multiple dimensions, and "physics" has to do with the movement thereof. And those have to do with time? Maybe? This is why I'm at GU and not the IPP. All I know is that she isn't just chasing after other science fictional theories. She delves headlong into what perhaps only people like Jules Verne thought possible until recently; into what, exactly, is beyond me. I'm pretty sure she is building a time machine, though. In her spare time.

So going off of this logic (I think), I invited her out to lunch yesterday when we happened to run into each other at the public library; we decided to walk to the restaurant since it was a nice day. On our way, we exchanged verbal puzzles and also plenty of hints for when we stumped each other, and cracked up when the one telling the puzzle couldn't remember it or the solution properly (I'll let you guess who forgot the most often and how many times). My cheeks were sore from smiling by the time I opened the door for her and we'd only been together ten minutes.

Once we had been served, I presented her with a new pocket watch from the jeweller down the road from the university. It seemed much unexpected to her, so much so that I was hoping that I had not overstepped some sort of unsaid boundary between us of not giving gifts; after all, I hadn't even given her a card on her birthday back in May. But then the look of surprise disappeared and she smiled and remarked on its beauty and that she _loved_ it, even. As we left the restaurant, she asked why I had bought it for her; my lame reply was simply as a thank-you for being a good friend currently and a helpful research partner previously.

That was the main reason. The other reason was that I wanted to practice giving things to her… such things as a ring. Now, I may be hasty in thinking about this, and I haven't gone ring shopping or thought about how to propose or even a whole lot about spending the rest of my life with her or anything like that. But there is just something about her that makes my head spin and my heart… well, she makes my heart do very funny things. She also seems to make me more loose-lipped: I started to talk about a few of my plans for the future… plans that include her. I shut up and changed the subject before I said anything further, though I didn't think for a moment that I was fooling her.

I suppose it's safe to say that I am in love; I certainly _hope_ that's the case if I am _actually_ considering buying her a ring. I know that the price of any quality ring will be through the roof, but whenever I see Claire's face, the issue of money seems to not exist. Which is kind of dangerous for a poor kid in grad school.


	18. 1st November, 1951

Dear diary,

Gressenheller had a Halloween party called the All Hollows' Evening Masquerade night before last. Clark dared me to go at all (as I had been planning on staying at home), as well as to dress as the Phantom of the Opera, saying how original I would be. Not so. There were three others, at least, who had had the same idea. But Claire agreed to be my Christine Daaé, which none of the other Phantoms were accompanied by, so that added to my originality, I guess. (Does that count as a date?!)

Clark's old Classical Texts in Translation partner, Paul, was there, as well; I guess he's in grad school, too, since he was a year ahead of Clark and me. He was not dressed up, or at least not that I could tell. He just seemed to be there to skulk, not speaking to anyone, not eating any of the refreshments. The woman cutting the cake offered him a piece, but he only wrinkled his nose and avoided the table like the plague. Maybe he was there as a vampire (there were at least ten of those in attendance), avoiding sweets instead of sunlight, or something; at times, I could have sworn he was glaring at me. If that were the case, he should have explained himself, or at least bothered with a costume.

That aside, it was an enjoyable evening. Claire and I made quite a handsome couple, if I do say so myself, though Claire, of course, was the better half, most likely because she knows the story so much better than me and is fairly decent at acting. She's an excellent dancer, to boot. I just barely passed ballroom dancing back at Kingsbrook, so I had to rely mostly on my fencing experiences to keep from stepping on her toes. We had a lot of fun, though.


	19. 5th May, 1952

Dear diary,

Today is Claire's twentieth birthday. When I had asked her what kind of gift she would like last week, all she had said was a new notebook. That was easy enough to obtain – I even found one with a lovely cursive C on the front – and she was quite delighted. I also took her out for a picnic and ice cream at St James's Park. She doesn't have any family nearby (her parents live up in Northampton) and she didn't tell any of her coworkers at the Institute it was her birthday since she isn't very close to them, so I wanted to give her a special day. From the continual beam on her face, I think it's safe to say I succeeded.


	20. 23rd September, 1952

Dear diary,

As of late, classes have been unbearable. Why I ever agreed to this torture, I will never know. I don't think I'll be able to stand another four or five years of it – at the very least – and then _teach_ classes for the rest of my working life and… oh, I can't write anymore.


	21. 13th January, 1954

Dear Diary,

Clark and Brenda are five weeks pregnant! I'm overjoyed, though rather sleepy. Clark called me at 4 A.M. this morning with the happy news. He said they were going to wait until later that day to announce the news to their families and friends (read: everyone with functioning ears in all of London), but he couldn't wait that long to tell me. An hour has passed and I have not been able to go back to sleep. I am trying to convince myself that this is because usually, once I wake up in the morning, I never can fall back asleep. The alternate reason for my early morning insomnia is that I am more excited for Clark and Brenda than I realise. Why would that be, though?

The Tritons have been doing well; they both had received several scholarships for uni, so they don't have nearly as much debt as the most of people we graduated with. Clark is doing really well at his greenhouse; Brenda is teaching secondary school history, which of course doesn't pay much, but she has some good benefits.

And I'll admit it: I lost my diary early December of '52. I only just found it when I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to go back to sleep after Clark's call. It was on the top of a bookshelf; how it ever ended up there, I may never know. Shame on me for not writing at all for a whole year and half, yes, I know. But truthfully… you certainly haven't missed much. Claire is doing well and there have been no advances in our relationship; I would certainly have told you if there were! Classes are as usual, therefore, life is as usual. Professorship seems further and further away all the time.


	22. 19th March, 1954

p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Dear Diary,/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"It would appear that Claire and I are now a /I just returned home from Robertson Park, the centre of Gressenheller next to the lake. We planned to meet there yesterday, since she had to come by this part of London on an errand anyway. When I found her standing under our favourite tree, she seemed happy to see me, if not a bit nervous. Not saying much by way of greeting, she gave me an envelope and told me to read the letter within at home. I would tape it onto this page, but there is a special pleasure in being able to hold it in my hands. Now that I'm back at my flat, I see that the letter does indeed expound upon that which she wordlessly debriefed me./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Ahem… 24 years old (as of recently), and I just had my first kiss. I am writing this bit of information down because this is a diary, after all, and I should be able to boldly confide my secrets. Which is why I will not go into further detail – such detail being the reason for how my heart was getting a week's worth of aerobic exercise even though I was standing still on my feet, or how red my face must surely have turned, or such as how good she smells or how cute her nose is when she smiles. Or how there was some strange ringing in my ears… either that, or someone was screaming their full head off somewhere in the park. It was probably my imagination, though, since Claire said she didn't hear anything./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Anyhow, I suppose this means I can officially start ring shopping, though for a poor grad student such as myself, employed at his university's mailroom such as I am, saving up for one, as well as a wedding, it will probably take a while. But it's just as well: we only just got together this afternoon, after all! Now, I should probably put down my pen and call my… wait for it…/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"GIRLFRIEND./p 


	23. 9th June, 1954

Dear Diary,

I'll try to be more consistent with my entries, I promise!

My stomach feels as if it is about to burst. Claire's parents invited us over to their house for supper and the long trip to get there and back was worth it. Mrs. Lillian certainly knows her way around the kitchen. This was not the first time I've eaten with the Foleys, much less the first time I have ever been in their presence since having been acquainted with their daughter, but it was the first time since we started dating. Even so, Claire was still sending grinning looks between her dad and me as if she were looking for signs of approval. Yes, something has definitely transpired in my relationship with Claire, to the point that she is now worried about what her dad thinks of me. Mr. Ken seems to like me, as he hasn't given me any reason to think otherwise. I think the fact that I'm earning a doctorate also scores me some points with him.

In other news, Clark has been promoted to manager at Finchley and really enjoys it there. Now that Brenda is about 20 weeks in, they had a checkup yesterday. The ultrasound showed that Brenda is having a healthy baby boy. Clark called at 7:30 a.m. (a much godlier hour than the initial announcement of their pregnancy), having just heard back from the hospital, to inform me of this. He said he'd show me the sonogram pictures later.

From here on out, I refuse to turn my diary into some sort of log for their pregnancy and subsequent parenthood as seen from my perspective. I have a life. Kind of. While I'm not studying my arse off. But, since things have been quiet around uni (not 'quiet' as in not busy, but 'quiet' as in uneventful), there isn't really much else to write about.


	24. 14th June, 1954

Dear Diary,

I went out to lunch with the Tritons today. Just thought I'd share a particularly memorable conversation.

"Alright," said Clark, "now that we know the baby's gender, we have to come up with the perfect name."

I have never seen Clark smile so goofily – at Brenda or otherwise. They took me out to lunch this afternoon, and I had been hoping rather against hope that the discussion would not revolve around Triton Jr., and… Clark said the above as soon as we sat down, even before the waiter could pass out menus. Brenda noticed my slight grimace at Clark's suggested conversation starter.

"Clark…" she said, taking his hand after ordering water for her husband and herself. He certainly didn't need anything with sugar or caffeine. "Let's wait a bit to start discussing the name, hmm?"

"Brilliant as always, love," Clark said as he leaned over to touch his forehead to hers. "We've five and a half months to think of a name, so let's focus on matters at hand. The colours for the nursery should be picked out, as we'll need to start decorating soon."

While she was still turned towards Clark, Brenda and I exchanged glances; I shrugged and mouthed 'it's fine' across the table to her. She shook her head, amused, as she turned back to face the table to browse through the menu.

"Our cream walls are fine, Clark; with shelves of books and pictures frames and all, the wall colour won't be noticed much."

"The cream is nice," he said thoughtfully, "but babies love colour so much, so I think it might be a nice change of pace for the baby's room to stand out from the rest of the house. Some shade of green might look nice with the carpet, because, really, blue is such an overdone colour for boys."

"If you really do want a painted room, then blue would go just as well with the carpet as green. Besides," Brenda put a hand to his blue shirt and batted her eyelashes, "I've always loved blue."

I don't think Clark even blinked before saying, "Robin's egg, or sky?"

"Sky, definitely."

"Sky blue… I love it."

My teacup could hardly hide my grin.


	25. 3rd August, 1954

Dear Diary,

I've been told that the Tritons have arrived on good first and middle names for the baby, but they're not telling what those names are. Ever the merciful one of the pair, Brenda did hint that their son will be named after some grandfather, though. I went to their mothers because I figured they would be the ones most likely to spill the beans on the subject. No such thing. Neither Mrs. Gloria Triton nor Mrs. Linda Sutherland would reveal any of the names of their respective family patriarchs to me. They were forewarned about me; this was to be a strictly family business. I've also been told by certain informants that Brenda has been having some dreadful cravings recently for roast lamb. My heart goes out for Clark's wallet.

On a completely unrelated subject, I heard Clark's old CTT partner, that Paul fellow, has been dismissed from Gressenheller. I wonder what happened, though I'm not really surprised.


	26. 20th August, 1954

Dear diary,

Ma and Pa are taking a short vacation this week, staying with me in my flat, to celebrate my birthday. Claire and I treated our parents to supper tonight at a new restaurant, and it was a lot of fun watching the four get to know each other. So… it seems like we're going to have amicable in-laws.


	27. 15 September, 1954

Dear Diary,

Being an only child, I never, ever expected to ever feel like an uncle unless I were to marry a woman with siblings (Claire has none, by the way, so being an uncle by marriage is out of the question). I certainly do feel like an uncle now, though.

Luke Alexander Triton was born today at 5:38 a.m. (fitting that it should be so early in the morning, yes?), weighing 2.7 kg; perfectly healthy, with a mess of blond hair. He was named after Brenda's grandfather while sharing his middle name with Clark's father – the sneaks; they used **_two_** patriarchs' names.

Due to some minor complications during birth, Clark said they would be spending a second night at the hospital to let Brenda rest and receive a blood transfusion. I just got back from running some errands for them; Clark said he is so sleep deprived he momentarily forgot who I was at one point. Even so, I've never seen the two of them look so happy.


	28. 17 September, 1954

Dear Diary,

I am about to leave for the hospital to make the acquaintance of the newest member of the Triton family. Clark told me over the phone that both sets of their parents and two of Brenda's siblings are coming to the hospital, as well. Despite their involving me in their preparations and their closeness with both of their families, Clark and Brenda had wanted to go through this milestone alone. Very understandable, though I do wish I had been there to see Clark nearly faint next to Brenda's bed, a happening he is not likely to ever live down anyway.

I'm back. Claire having permission to come too, we arrived at their hospital room and were greeted by Tritons and Sutherlands alike. It was the picture of family and parenthood: members of the two families abounding, Brenda in the bed, Clark at her side, and the little bundle held securely in his mother's arms.

Amid the constant activity of the hospital room of family members coming and going (the occasional nurse checking on mother and son was thrown in there somewhere, as well), Claire and I would occasionally catch each other's eyes. On such occurrences, we would quickly smile and look away, either to Luke's pink little face or out the hospital room window. I wonder if she wants children.

There was a hierarchy for who held the baby next what with all of the grandmothers and aunts around (Claire was even in front of me in the lineup), so I was not able to see Luke up close right away. When I finally had a turn to hold him, I was a bit surprised by, well, our eye contact. It was not as if I'm some baby whisperer and being in my arms had calmed him so that he could hold still long enough to actually look at me. While not exactly focused, he seemed interested and thoughtful, as strange as it sounds since he's only a day old. I use the following adjective sparingly but… he is quite adorable. The aforementioned blond hair matches his parents' almost exactly; he has Brenda's eyes and Clark's nose.


	29. 20 September, 1954

Dear Diary,

The Tritons came home from the hospital on the 18th to their baby-proofed house. As planned, their nursery is a lovely sky blue with an alphabet theme.

Ugh… I must stop writing all of these baby entries. It's not even my baby I'm writing about! But, like I said, I do rather feel like an uncle. Other than that, I am just so proud of Clark and Brenda. Many of my other high school and college classmates have chosen much different paths that seeing the Tritons doing things the right way is such a breath of fresh air. This is also because I am not exactly a social butterfly and Clark is like a brother to me.


	30. An Announcement

Hey everyone! I am definitely going to continue this story, but I have decided to simplify things for myself and only post updates to AO3. kind of confuses me, haha, and I just prefer the way AO3 does things overall. Here is a link to it: /works/7059196/chapters/16047655

Thanks for reading!


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